


Violet

by starlingscully



Category: Elite (2018), Élite (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Nadia is an independent woman, New York, everyone seems to be happy but there’s a catch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlingscully/pseuds/starlingscully
Summary: “Promise me,” Christian looked at them intently as they stood by the lake, “we would meet at least every year after we leave Las Encinas. The three of us.”orAU where all of them are gathered years later, threatening to ruin Nadia and Guzmán’s peace.





	Violet

**Author's Note:**

> and i’m at it again
> 
> disclaimer:  
> 1) show is not mine  
> 2) this is heavily influenced by another fanfic

Days after being interviewed one by one by the police, Christian asked them to meet him by the lake. Samuel was too distraught to decline, and Nadia felt the need to see someone who understood. Someone from the inside.

“Promise me,” Christian looked at them intently as they stood by the lake, “we would meet at least every year after we leave Las Encinas. The three of us.”

Nadia never really considered Christian to a very good friend, but the term in Las Encinas forged a sort of camaraderie among them. And it made sense, because life after high school makes friends grow apart. What happened, however, will surely expedite the process. It made sense because this made them value life even more. They were still the lucky ones.

“I promise.” It was Samuel who swore.

Nadia felt a wave of emotions through her, and she let Christian pull her into a bone-crushing hug. When he let go of her, he was crying.

* * *

  
Nadia made her way to the restaurant in her low-heeled shoes. The click of her heels quietly seeped into the serene atmosphere of the place.

When she arrived at the table, she was greeted by her friends. It had been another year.

“ _Hola, chica._ I swear every year you get more beautiful.” Christian remarked. She rolled her eyes.

“And you wear less every campaign I see you in from the magazines at my assistant’s table.” The waiter that passed by them did a double take at what Nadia said. Christian chuckled and pulled a seat for her. She turned to Samuel, taking in his appearance.

“Oh, I’ve missed you. How’s that book coming anyway, Samu?” She hugged him and sat on her chair.

“Hola, Nadia. It went to the publisher a few weeks ago. My agent called me to say it’s a go.” Samuel smiled proudly.

“I’m telling you, Nadia, for every chapter that book has is a centimeter of this bastard’s beard.” Christian teased, which earned him a table napkin in the face.

“You do look gruff, Samu. I thought you’d be happy these times.”

Samuel shrugged. “Mid-life crisis, I guess.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. We’re just about to go 30, Samu.” In all honesty, Nadia felt like it’s only the beginning of their lives. Samuel is last year’s New York Times’ bestselling writer, who took to write like George Orwell. Christian is model who’s making it big in the industry. It hadn’t been an easy process for him, but he’s one of those at the top now.

As for Nadia, she met last week with her employer at the United Nations, who told her that she would be getting a promotion and a raise after her duty in Senegal three months from now.

There was a moment of pensiveness, and Christian said, “12 years was quite quick, no? I thought I’d miss you lots more.”

Nadia let herself a few moments to stop and relax, to think about the last years.

When their food arrived, Samuel decided to drop one on them. “Lu is getting married here in the city. She’s invited everyone from our class.”

Nadia stopped. “What?”

Christian buttered his bread without as much as a glance at Samuel. “Here in New York, huh? Isn’t that a bit...plain for her?”

Samuel hummed. “Probably. Also, Guzmán said he’s moving here for good.”

* * *

  
A sharp knock woke Guzmán from his sleep. He pulled on a shirt and turned on the lights. He wondered who might turn up at this hour—

“Hi.” She needs to stop showing up half-drunk in his place. Seriously.

“Nadia. How may I help you?”

“By not moving to New York. Can you do that?” She walked inside his apartment, shoes in hand. She wiggled her toes when it touched the soft rug beside his bed.

Guzmán closed the door and walked to her. “You said that when I stayed in London months ago. Where do you want me exactly, Nadia?”

Nadia threw her arms around him, slurring a bit. “You know where.”

Guzmán gently untangled himself. “No, you’re drunk. Alright?” He gently placed her on his bed, suddenly tired of everything. His plane landed just yesterday, and he hasn’t recovered the sleep from last week.

“Leave after Lu’s wedding. Please.” He stopped.

“Why?”

“Because we’ve never been in one place for longer than a month. It would ruin” she made random movements with her arms “...this.”

Guzmán sighed. For what it’s worth, the setup has been working for them for quite a while now. Nadia had access to all his accommodations when he’s in town. He just knows were in the world she is all the time. He’s at that point when he’s tired of denying how convenient he finds it all, and probably how afraid he is of it going away with a single move. Still, he can’t help taking a leap.

“What’s wrong with a little ruin, anyway?”

She doesn’t answer.

* * *

 

Lu’s wedding was a simple one, a stark contrast from what everyone who knew her was expecting. Nonetheless, Nadia saw how happy she was on her special day. If you would ask Nadia at 16 if she could imagine herself being invited at Lu’s wedding, she would laugh before slitting her wrists. As the years progressed, however, the two girls found themselves working together with Lu’s father in Spain. They’ve been a sort of friends, would sometimes go out to lunch on breaks, and she found that she liked her. Truly.

Thus, here she sat.

Carla and her husband arrived with their son, with Ander and Omar with them at the table. The two men had obviously spent the last month in the Bahamas with the tan they’re both sporting under white suits.

Nadia notes her date, a guy named Angelo, as he stood from the table he’s sitting in. He kissed Lu’s cheek and gave the groom, his best friend, a hug before giving a short speech at the reception. She met him because of Carla, for her husband played golf with Angelo.

He was nice, but a bit too full of himself. Nadia, however, was here to have good time, and it’s not like she hasn’t been with any else of his kind.

An hour later, Carla got her attention by asking her to accompany her to the bar, leaving his husband with their firstborn. Nadia looked around and found Samuel with Guzmán, who looked positively angered and...panicked.

“Oh god, I’m tell Lu I’m so sorry. I have to go.” She could hear his voice even from afar. Samu said something to him and nodded, and Guzmán took off. Nadia frowned.

Carla found her a moment later. “Guzmán punched Angelo.”

Angelo, her date. Angelo. She fumed.

“What?!”

“Ask Samu, _corazon_.” Carla sighed and went back to their table, where she gave her husband a loving kiss. But instead of following her advice, Nadia went straight to the door, where she found Guzmán waiting for his driver.

“What the hell, Guzmán? What’s wrong with you?” Nadia was positively seething.

He scoffed. “Of course you’d go for me without even asking what happened. You date is a fucking asshole, that’s what.”

“So what if he is? You know what, you have no right to ruin this. At the end of the day, it’s all about you!”

“Me? You’re the one who took to dating douchebags now.”

“Considering I dated you, I don’t know what to make of that.” At this, Guzmán seemed taken aback. His driver went back and he wordlessly got into his car and didn’t spare Nadia a glance. 

* * *

 

“I heard it alright.” Omar said, finishing the last of his serving of the wedding cake.

Nadia sulked all throughout the wedding. Her date was nowhere to be seen, and she had been disappointed at how her last argument with Guzmán had transpired. It could have ended better, but of course, they were both angry.

“What?”

“Why Guzmán punched your date.”

Nadia seemed to have resorted to single-syllabled words. “Why?”

“Why not go to Guzmán and ask him yourself?” He suggested.

“We fought. It was ugly.” She said. Omar looked at him as if she’s being silly.

“Haven’t you been doing that for the past 12 years?”

* * *

 

Guzmán hoped it wasn’t her when he heard knocking on his door, that’s twice this week.

He wondered how many people had to die for Nadia to do that. He wasn’t up for an argument. He has a flight to catch.

“What do you want, Nadia?”

In her usual fashion, she strode into the room at her own accord. She’s not drunk this time, he notes. Still, he doubts there would be some good out of this.

“I think I know what happened there, at the wedding.” She turned to him, and he could’t help but come to her. He walked until they’re so close they can feel each puff of breath the other made.

“What?”

Something in Nadia’s eyes changed, and slowly, she tipped her toes to his level, “The white knight complex is getting a little old, Guzmán.” And she kisses him.

Guzmán’s hands were around her waist in a second. He responded to her kisses in kind, savoring her the way he hadn’t been able to in months and oh, god. Everything about her feels like home.

In a whirlwind of party clothes and sleeping pajamas, the two found themselves clutching each other. Guzmán let himself be consumed once again, let himself only think about the girl in his arms and nothing else.

* * *

  
“What did he say anyway?” Nadia asked after catching her breath, her head on Guzmán’s chest as she looked up at him.

“Some asshole stuff he usually says.” Guzmán said. “I just don’t think I’d ever not want to defend you in, well,” he trailed off, and Nadia took his hand.

“I know.”

He peered down at her. “You do?”

Nadia sat up, the sheets pooling at her hips. “I do. Which is why I want to start again.”

Guzmán smiled at her determination. “Aren’t we a little too old for that?”

“Guzmán, it’s precisely why we should. I’ve been thinking about what you said. We’re older now. The past has been haunting us for too long.”

Guzmán didn’t have to think. “Do you remember what I told you all those years ago? About me not being sure if anyone would want me just for what I think or feel?”

Nadia looks at him and nods.

”Well,” he continues. “I was a boy back then. It doesn’t even matter now, ever since Marina died.” 

Frankly, it’s not like he’s being overly emotional or anything. Guzmán hadn’t let himself feel anything more than necessary for years because he thought that he’s incapable of it. The problem of his youth robbed him of any interest in being truly happy.

”And don’t you think you deserve better than that, Guzmán?”

He sat up and looked at her hard, like he always did when trying to tell her something sincerely. He’s tired of feeling the guilt, and Nadia is just too familiar too let go. “Are you sure about that, Nadia?” She nods and kisses him, and just like that it’s over. Nadia has won.

“It won’t be easy, _mi amor._ ” He said.

“Easy is not for people like us, Guzmán.”

* * *

 

One sunny morning two years later, Angelo Garcia wakes up to the news of Guzmán Nunier’s engagement in the Times.

On his table, there’s a bottle of Cheval Blanc and a note.

_Thank you for being an asshole.  
N_

**Author's Note:**

> title from Daniel Caesar’s song 
> 
> thank you for reading
> 
> ciao


End file.
